Not This Year
by ScullyMinusTheSkepticism
Summary: Mama Krycek, Alex, and Fox on Christmas.


NOT THIS YEAR  
  
Author: Nadia (ScullyMinusTheSkepticism)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: Alex, Mama Krycek, and Mulder reflect on X-mas problems.  
  
Disclaimer: Fox, Alex, and Dana are not my creations, etc.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"...But there are some things in life that are not meant to be  
  
I'm not meant for you, and you're not meant for me  
  
Here's to our problems and here's to our fights  
  
Here's to our achings and here's to your having  
  
A good life, from me...  
  
...Now I'm regretting the moves that I made  
  
Fatal mistakes are so easily made  
  
Enough of my problems they only cause fights  
  
Forget that I ran you and promise that you'll have  
  
Such a beautifully happy and painlessly romantic...  
  
Good life, from me  
  
Good life...." -GOOD LIFE, Francis Dunnery  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
Hospital walls grow so dull after so many hours of  
  
staring at them. The ceiling grows bleak and all of  
  
the tiles run together. The flowers next to the bed  
  
start a long wilting process. Even the television no  
  
longer offers the enlightenment it once did. I look  
  
at all of these things and wonder, if they were  
  
looking back at me, would they be saying the same  
  
disheartening things about my condition?  
  
The lightbulb above me is dim. It makes me feel at  
  
home, and somehow homesick at the same time. I see  
  
him enter out of the corner of my eye, and I realize  
  
that I do not need the struggling lightlbulb. His  
  
cautious smile is enough of a light to make my ailing  
  
heart leap and my hands somehow gain the strength to  
  
reach up to him. He approaches my bed, a fresh rose  
  
in his hand. He looks down upon me with the most  
  
beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. I have not seen  
  
them in years, and did not, until now, realize how  
  
much I missed them.  
  
He sets the rose in the nearby vase, and I wondered if  
  
that living rose would help revive the ones that were  
  
depressed. Like he could help revive me. He kept his  
  
leather jacket on as he pulled a chair close to the  
  
bed. "Mama," he says, gazing at me in concern. He  
  
has his father's eyes, and his hair is wet from the  
  
snow outside. I look out the window, at the raging  
  
storm.  
  
"Alexei..." my cracked voice chuckles, and I say in  
  
Russian, "You must care about your Mama, to come see  
  
me in this weather."  
  
Alex nods, taking my wrinkled hand in his  
  
leather-gloved one. "How are you?"  
  
I smile sadly. "Oh, Alexei...Mama is dying."  
  
He knows this, of course. I do not know how he knew I  
  
am here in the hospital, or what I am sick with, but I  
  
can tell he knows I'm dying. As if he's seen it a million times. I  
  
don't plan to ask. Any unnecessary word is a wasted word when so few  
  
important ones have the time to be spoken.  
  
He nods and squeezes my hand. "I am here, Mama. I  
  
will stay with you."  
  
There is so much going on behind those green eyes! I  
  
can decipher very little of it. He looks cold,  
  
hungry, and tired. "Do not worry for me, my son.  
  
Worry about yourself." I looked him up and down  
  
critically. When had he gotten so thin? He looked  
  
back at me, maybe trying to figure out what my  
  
thoughts were of him. He looked too happy to be  
  
holding onto his dying mama's hand; it was like he  
  
needed someone to care for him. He was allowing me to  
  
leave, it seemed, but he didn't want me to.  
  
"Alexei..." I sighed heavily, "Don't you have somebody  
  
you care about?" The hungry way he seemed to need  
  
someone to hang onto, someone to encourage, someone to  
  
cheer for, someone to love...Did not he have some  
  
lovely young girl back in America? Maybe we should  
  
have stayed in Russia, I began to think. No Russian  
  
woman would be able to resist the beauty that was my  
  
son; I wondered how any American woman ever could,  
  
either.  
  
He considered my words. "I have someone I care about,  
  
but...We don't get along. I do many, many things for  
  
them, but they don't realize it."  
  
I smiled and patted his hand. "They do not realize it yet. They  
  
will."  
  
Alex sighed, hanging his head close to his chest.  
  
"Yeah...Yeah, Mama." He looked back up at me, deep in  
  
thought, looking to my eyes but somehow past them,  
  
into some other deep world.  
  
"Will you promise me something, Alexei?" I ask, still  
  
resting my hand on his.  
  
He nods. "Anything, Mama."  
  
I close my eyes for a moment. "I want you..." I  
  
begin, and open my eyes, "To go home. I want you to  
  
spend Christmas with this person you care for."  
  
He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Shush, Mama, no. I'm  
  
staying here with you."  
  
I shook my head. "You listen to your Mama, now. I  
  
want you to fly back to America. I want you to at  
  
least see this person. I will be gone soon, Alexei,  
  
and I've accepted it. But this person...they are not  
  
gone. They are very much alive, and I want you to be  
  
near them and be happy. I love you, Alexei. Please  
  
be happy."  
  
I drop his hand, turn to my side, and feign sleep.  
  
I hear footsteps retreat and I turn slightly toward  
  
the door. He's looking back at me. "Go, Alexei," I  
  
say, with a nudge of my hand.  
  
He smiles at me. "Merry Christmas, Mama."  
  
I turn back around, smiling, and close my eyes. And  
  
to you, Alexei. You may have had some tough times in  
  
the past, but you'd better not have one this  
  
Christmas. Not this year.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
I stood oustide of his apartment building, the cold  
  
snow and wind freezing my face as I looked up at his  
  
window. I knew it was his because of the masking tape  
  
X. I smiled. That was Fox. I hadn't seen him in  
  
months. It was nice to know that some things never  
  
change.  
  
I couldn't bring myself to climb the stairs to his  
  
apartment. I didn't want the rejection, or the likely  
  
head injury, I'd receive. But I found myself more  
  
worried about him: If the rat bastard showed up, it would ruin  
  
his Christmas. I sighed and looked up at the sky.  
  
Sorry, Mama, I thought.  
  
I turned and walked back to my car, leaving footsteps  
  
in the snow that led away from his building. Led away  
  
from Fox Mulder. Led away from any courage I'd built up  
  
since leaving the hospital and Russia. I just  
  
couldn't do this to him. Not this year.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
I walked to the window, wondering if Scully was on her  
  
way yet. There was a tree, presents, and wine all  
  
ready to share a nice Christmas with her. She  
  
deserved it.  
  
I peered through one of the 'V's created by the  
  
masking tape X, looking for the familiar red hair. I  
  
saw a retreating black figure and tensed up. What was  
  
he doing here?  
  
I watched Krycek get into his car and pull out of the  
  
parking lot slowly. I sighed, and as if Krycek could  
  
hear it, said to the window frame, "Merry Christmas,  
  
you rat bastard." A small smile crossed my lips as I  
  
saw Scully coming up the walk only seconds after  
  
Alex's car had driven away. This would be a great  
  
Christmas, and thankfully, Alex Krycek had no  
  
intentions of bothering them, ruining their holiday  
  
fun and cheer. Not this year.  
  
  
  
END 


End file.
